


almost enough

by jodiejareau



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Depression, F/F, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jodiejareau/pseuds/jodiejareau
Summary: It’s just that if she was really telling the truth here then she’s not fine. It takes a second too long to get out of bed in the morning, to remember what the point of anything is. Her limbs are a little too heavy and her brain is a little too foggy and yeah, she sees a dangerous situation and thinks well okay, I could do that fix that why not it’s only life. And if anyone thinks that’s weird they don’t say anything and she pulls her sleeves down over her wrists and makes a hilarious joke or witty observation at the right moment and it goes unnoticed.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	almost enough

It’s fine, really, nothing wrong, nothing to see here. It’s fine and she’s fine, if you don’t know what to look for, which nobody does, because how well does she actually know them, really? Ryan popped back into her life last year and has no idea what had happened in the eight years since they’d seen each other (except for her brief entanglement with Danny Biswas, which she regretted ever letting slip for so many reasons). Graham’s nice and well-meaning but a bit oblivious really, and the Doctor? Practically the dictionary definition of clueless. You’d think an alien with two hearts, a respiratory bypass and all manner of weird and wonderful things going in inside her brain would be more, well, switched on.

So she’s fine, travelling in time and _space_ she’s _fine_ except it turns out this kind of travel is infinitely more dangerous than the school trip to Paris she wasn’t allowed to go on in year eight, and danger probably isn’t something she should be running headlong towards. Her superiors in the force think they’re so smart keeping her on traffic disputes and petty crimes and claiming it’s just part of her probation, like she doesn’t have a brain in her head, doesn’t know that the ‘confidential’ chat with a psychologist after she filled out her medical questionnaire on intake was actually put on her permanent record, and that’s what you get for telling the truth. But it’s fine. She tells the truth and it keeps her safe. It’s fine.

It’s just that if she was really telling the truth here then she’s not fine. It takes a second too long to get out of bed in the morning, to remember what the point of anything is. Her limbs are a little too heavy and her brain is a little too foggy and yeah, she sees a dangerous situation and thinks well okay, I could do that fix that _why not it’s only life._ And if anyone thinks that’s weird they don’t say anything and she pulls her sleeves down over her wrists and makes a hilarious joke or witty observation at the right moment and it goes unnoticed.

Or that’s what she thinks until the Doctor knocks on her door one morning, cup of tea perfectly brewed (milk, one sugar) and the kind of look on her face that the school counsellor always had, open and concerned and _fucking empathetic_ like they had a clue, like they’d been here in the dark with no escape and no real will to escape, anyway. But it’s the Doctor, and Yaz loves her (and wait, does the Doctor know that? Because she’s clueless but maybe not _that_ clueless, and if so that’s yet another mistake to add to the running total), so she lets her in and tries not to be alarmed when she motions for Yaz to sit on her own bed next to her.

The Doctor’s nervous; she can tell by the way she hands her the tea and immediately clasps her hands back together, fiddling with thin air. “What’s wrong, Yaz?” And maybe she would’ve brushed it off if she’d left it there, but there’s only a brief pause before she’s listing all the stupid fucking things Yaz has done recently, notably including using a teleport to what she thought was an alien planet and hoped was an opportunity to prove she was, well, enough. And if Yaz thinks about it she knows that’s fucked up, but luckily the Doctor is still going – jumping in front of lasers (“I was trying to save that boy’s life!”), not calling for backup, and then there is it – “You only get one life, Yaz, you’re not like me, you can’t afford to throw it away.”

She laughs, can’t help it. “Yeah, well I didn’t fucking ask for it, did I?” There’s too much of the truth in that statement, more than she meant, but no takey-backsies, too late to walk it back now. She’s fine, really, she exists now and there’s nothing she can do to stop it that won’t cause someone else pain, unless she just _happens_ to die in an intergalactic space war, or accidentally-on-purpose misjudges a situation and throws herself in front of a bullet not meant for her in some kind of fucked-up heroic sacrifice. It would’ve been easier if the Kassavin _had_ killed her. She’s fine, and the medication is working or so they said, she wouldn’t know anymore because she’s not taking it because they don’t exactly have Lloyd’s Pharmacy in space, and she has something to live for now – her family and her career and the whole universe at her feet – and if that’s not enough (it is, it has to be) then where does she go from here?

She expects the Doctor to be alarmed, send her home where Najia can keep an eye on her, where Sonya can be worried sick about her _again_ (will Yaz ever stop being a huge disappointment to everybody), maybe give her some big inspirational speech, but instead she just nods. “I didn’t ask for it either, Yaz,” she says calmly, “and do you know how many times I’ve wished I didn’t exist?” Yaz doesn’t know, can’t say she’s ever considered that the Doctor might not want to live forever or at all, just that she’s really glad she _does_ exist. At least Yaz only has a human lifespan to put up with. She can tell the Doctor’s not bullshitting her because her eyes have never been clearer, deeper, sadder, more understanding.

“How do you do it?” Yaz asks, because she swears she can’t do this forever, not feeling like this, because it always, somehow, comes back here, ends in wanting to sleep away the days because life just hurts too fucking much to exist while conscious. A tear rolls down her cheek and she’s furious with herself, scrubs it away. She has the whole of the world at her feet, the woman (alien) of her dreams right in front of her and she still can’t feel a thing except the darkness.

The Doctor sighs, reaches out and rests her hand palm up on Yaz’s knee. When Yaz places her hand in the Doctor’s, she rubs the back of her hand with her thumb. “I don’t know, Yaz,” she confesses, gazing at her earnestly. “I do it because I have to. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time, because there’s always someone who needs saving. And if not me, who else will do it?” If she didn’t know better, she’d think the woman in front of her had a god complex. “There’s people depending on me, Yaz, and I know it might not seem like it but there’s people depending on you, too.”

She rolls her eyes, almost pulls her hand back – “Way to guilt trip me.”

“That’s not what I mean,” the Doctor shifts impatiently, turns to face Yaz, one knee on the bed so that one of her boots is precariously close to being on the duvet – “I have bad moments too. Bad years, bad centuries even – and I can’t fight it, but sometimes I can carry on in spite of it. And some days it’s not so bad, and saving the day is enough, or it _is_ so bad but ice cream on toast is nearly enough, you know?”

 _Ice cream on toast_. She’s a fucking psychopath. Bad _centuries_ , though. Was that meant to be reassuring? “I don’t know how much longer I can feel like this,” she manages, unable to meet the Doctor’s eyes. “It feels like it’ll never end. I can’t live like this forever.”

“You won’t have to,” the Doctor promises, and Yaz doesn’t know whether that’s an indication that things will get better or a reminder that one day they’ll end, but either way maybe it’s enough for now. One day maybe it’ll be okay, or maybe it’ll be worse, maybe she’ll lose the few people she has in her life, but for now it’s just her and the Doctor and she meets her eyes and nods, _okay,_ and suddenly the Doctor’s scuttled closer and her arms are around her and in this moment, it’s almost enough.


End file.
